Just Breathe
by In The Name
Summary: What was bugging Jane the most, when he pushed down the guilt, was that he didn't know why. Was it because he'd been suffering from amnesia and was unable to remember? Or was it because he'd remembered too much and hadn't held his tongue?


**I'm back! I've been gone for so long, no amount of pathetic excuses could be consequential. But the point is that I'm finally writing again, yay! This is a song-fic to Pearl Jam's _Just Breathe. _****I don't own the song, or The Mentalist, but I do hope you enjoy what I've done with them.  
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**Just a warning that this isn't necessarily a happy-ending type of fic. You have been forewarned.**

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><p><span>Just Breathe<span>

Jane sat on the hard plastic chair and stared into the vacant space before him. He doubted there was any emotion written on his face but that didn't stop the tidal waves of feelings crashing within him. He couldn't believe it, even after all the time he'd had to come to terms with it. He took in a deep breath, trying to regain control of the war waging inside him. He was faced with the very real possibility that she could die, just cease to exist at any given moment. Of course, he'd known that she'd die eventually, they all would, and the fact that they were on this case of all cases meant that eventually would come sooner rather than later. But he was not prepared to cope with how he felt when eventually was here.

He was trapped in the storm, unable to move or interact with others that he knew were dealing with the same sense of helplessness and loss. He looked around, seeing just how many people were here, waiting for any news on her condition. So many people loved her, and he knew that it was because she loved each and every one of them. It was hard to resist the love of a wonderful woman such as her. He could help but feel envious for a moment, knowing that he'd have much fewer people here if their positions were switched. He looked down at his hands, hating himself for turning this around so it was about him, but that's what he did best, after all.

He was fiddling with his wedding ring on his left ring finger unconsciously. He noticed this and made a conscious effort to stop. Instead, he let his mind drift back to where it wanted to go, anything for a distraction from this situation. It was selfish of him, but how was that different from anything else he did? He began to think of who would be here if it were him in the operating room. The team would be here, staying as long as they could until a case or the need for rest pulled them away. He knew it would be because they loved him, and if he were being completely honest, he'd admit that he loved them too. Yes, somewhere along the road of crime and punishment, he'd come to love the team. Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt and Lisbon; each one unique and earning a special place in his heart. It was becoming an awfully full place, his heart, what with the new additions making room among the memories of his wife and daughter, Angela and little Charlotte. He smiled internally, unable to break through the mask on his face. Maybe he was more fortunate than he'd thought.

He was definitely more fortunate than Teresa Lisbon, who was fighting for her life lying down on the operating table. He hoped that she'd make it. She had to. Not just for his sake, but for the sake of the team, for the sake of her family. She had to. A single tear escaped the fortress containing his turmoil.

XXXX

_Yes, I understand that every life must end, aw-huh,_

_As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw-huh,_

_Oh I'm a lucky man, to count on both hands_

_The ones I love,.._

_Some folks just have one,_

_Yeah, others, they've got none, huh-uh  
><em>

_Stay with me,_

_Let's just breathe._

XXXX

He couldn't even remember what had happened. Not in the days leading up to now and certainly not the main event. He was told he'd suffered some sort of head injury and had suffered from amnesia. Great, just great. What could have been the last few day he'd spend with her and he couldn't remember a thing. Well, that was a lie. He remembered one thing, one thing only. As luck would have it, it was the one thing he wished he could erase from his memory forever.

The team had told him the basics, how he'd gone back to what they assumed to be how he'd behaved before Red John, before his wife even. He could only imagine what trouble he'd caused, how forward and demanding he'd been and that was worse, in a way. The uncertainty was eating away at his resolve; his resolve to do what though, he couldn't say. Resolve to keep hidden his feelings, perhaps? Well, he liked to keep hidden every aspect of his that made him human so it would make sense. But just because it made sense didn't mean it was the truth.

He got up suddenly, startling his silent companions, and walked over to a vending machine. He put in his coins and hit the button rather violently. It didn't make a difference, he didn't feel better. He grabbed his bottle of water and cracked the seal. Putting the opening to his lips, he took a few much needed and appreciated gulps of water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to drink, but then again he didn't remember much.

_He got up from where he'd been sitting. He didn't recognize where he was, but he recognized the shout that pierced the air. Lisbon. He ran over to where her cry had emanated from. His surroundings blurred around him but his location didn't matter. Her shout had been laced with pain, indicating danger. He couldn't put his finger on why he'd been sitting on the damp earth underneath an oak tree but he figured he was probably hiding from something. _

_Another cry of pain shattered the silence that hung around him like a cloak. It confirmed his thoughts; he'd most likely run away from whatever danger had been nearby and hidden. He didn't like pain, didn't like getting hurt. He was a coward, yes, but it is the coward that will survive longer than the hero. Or at least that's what he told himself._

_Jane reached a barn, painted a deep red. His eyes bounced from left to right before landing on a matching patch of red that didn't come from paint. Lisbon lay on the ground, her left hand wrapped around her middle. Her blood flowed between her fingers, eager in their escape to lower ground. He sprinted to where she lay on the ground faster than he'd ever ran in his life._

"_Stay with me Teresa. Come on, just breathe. Just like I'm doing, see it's not so hard," Jane pleaded. He added his hand to staunch the bleeding, placing it atop hers. "Let's just breathe, okay?"_

XXXX

_Practiced are my sins,_

_Never gonna let me win, aw-huh._

_Under everything, just another human being, aw-huh,_

_Yeah, I don't wanna hurt, there's so much in this world,_

_To make me bleed.  
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_Stay with me,_

_You're all I see._

XXXX

Jane walked back to his chair, unable to stand for the shaking that had overtaken his control. It had come with the memory, his last memory or his first. He wasn't sure and couldn't be bothered to differentiate at the moment. The team had told him that Red John had taken her, that they'd been searching for days before they found her. They added that he'd been there when they found her, him having been three steps ahead of them. Despite his being ahead of the team, he had been at least five steps behind Red John. How else could he have let Red John take her?

What was bugging Jane the most, when he pushed down the guilt, was that he didn't know why Red John had taken her. Why now? Was it simply because he'd been suffering from amnesia and was unable to remember anything? Or was it because he'd remembered too much and hadn't held his tongue? Had he told her what she'd told him all those years previous? That he needed her? Had he added what neither had dared admit before? That he wanted her? He'd asked the team, knowing they wouldn't be able to tell him. If he'd been half the man he was now, he wouldn't have said these things where the team could overhear them, if he'd said them at all. If he had voiced the secrets of his heart that had to be the reason Red John had come after her. That was what had made them secrets in the first place, his fear that Red John would take her from him should he be so lucky to have her. He could only hope that he'd get a chance to redeem his foolishness.

Unable to dwell on the thought of losing her any longer, Jane thought of the memories he'd recently regained. He thought of the memories of his life before his head injury, of how Lisbon had helped him far more than she'd known. He fingered his front pocket where he knew a crinkled picture lay, weathered by wear. It was of Lisbon, at one of the many mandatory CBI benefits they'd attended over the years. She was genuinely enjoying herself and he'd snapped a picture. Countless times had he looked at it since she'd arrived. The folds in the picture were marked with white lines, free of ink. She'd graciously let him keep the picture rather than force him to delete it as she did so often with other pictures. Just this once, she'd told him with an impish grin. She'd given him this tangible memory and so much more. What had he given her? A knife wound to her abdomen.

XXXX

_Did I say that I need you?_

_Did I say that I want you?_

_Oh, if I did I'm a fool you see,_

_No one knows this more than me._

_As I come clean.  
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_I wonder everyday_

_As I look upon your face, aw-huh,_

_Everything you gave_

_And nothing you would take, aw huh,_

_Nothing you would take_

_Everything you gave..._

XXXX

He took out the picture and looked down at it once more, despite it being etched behind his eyelids every time they closed. His mind swam with 'what ifs…?' as his vision swam with tears. Up until now, he'd been worried that he'd caused her injuries by professing his feelings to her, convinced that this was the worst possible thing he could have done. But what if he hadn't? What if Red John had simply taken her because he knew Jane wouldn't be able to save her and that Jane would drive himself insane without the memory? What if he hadn't told her? Wasn't that worse? If he'd thought he was idiotic before, that couldn't hold a candle to what he felt now. If he hadn't told her while he wasn't himself, she may never know. He certainly hadn't told her before, his mind clouded by fear, vengeance and conflict. She had to make it through this, or she'd never know.

XXXX

_Did I say that I need you?_

_Oh, did I say that I want you?_

_Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see,_

_No one knows this more than me._

_As I come clean, ah-ah..._

XXXX

It was all Jane could do to keep himself from collapsing at the doctor's news. His hand reached out to grab the closing thing in order to support himself. That thing being Cho, he didn't fall. He thought of everything she'd given him, everything she'd given her team. She never needed their help, but sometimes asked for it. Although she didn't realise, she was so strong, stronger than him, than Red John, than this. But her need to be in control and fear of being weak prevented her from actually taking anything from any of them. She'd given everything.

Jane knew that he could do nothing but love her more for this. Everything about her had wedged himself between his desire for revenge and his desire to survive. He closed his eyes, knowing he'd love her for the rest of his life. He'd see her soon, on the other side.

But the other side which he was thinking was not the other side of the door, for the last thing Teresa Lisbon had given for her job, for the team, for him, was her life.

XXXX

_Nothing you would take,_

_Everything you gave._

_Love you till I die,_

_Meet you on the other side._

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><p><strong>Sniff. That was my first character death. :( I almost didn't write it, but I couldn't leave this unfinished and any other way wouldn't have sufficed. Since it's impossible for you to send me a tissue, send a review instead. It'll do the trick, I'm sure.<strong>


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